


Ashes

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Series: Moments of Life in the Shadows [36]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Remembrance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11533974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: When the past comes back to haunt you...





	Ashes

**Q…**

I sat at the kitchen counter, cuppa clutched in both hands in front of my face, steam wafting upwards occasionally steaming up into my glasses. In front of me was a decorative wooden box, brandishing an engraved nameplate. It sat upon layers of brown parcel packaging. I stared at it. In its own way, it stared back. This is a where i sat in silence when Bond came back to the flat.

Bond came to stand next me looking at the box on the table then to me. I rose to refill my cup once more from a chilled bottle in the freezer instead of coffee this time.

"Q? Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes," I flounce down in the chair again. "An urn. Containing ashes. Someone's ashes. A dead person". I stare at the table not making any sort of contact with James at all

"I'm a little confused here Q? Why are their someone's ashes on our kitchen counter?"

"Not just 'someone', James. Brooks. His ashes." I sigh taking a rather large gulp of Glenfiddich which makes me sputter a tad.

"Need a little more Intel here Q. Who is Brooks? And why are his ashes on our kitchen counter?"

"My college mentor. First years at uni. Helped me immensely through some rough times. Old friend." My mind drifts and I just stare again.

"And?"

"Oh..." I come back to this world partially leaving behind old thoughts and memories. "He and his sister weren't close. Not married. No partner. His will asked that I scatter his ashes."

"Q.... how old were you? You were what 16...17... in University."

I know the thoughts that are running through James at the moment. His face tells me he has slipped into mission mode for a moment.  Assessing what Intel he has. Making on the spot judgements. Looking at all sides of the scenario.

"14, if you really must know Bond."  I am so not ready to discuss any or this right now. None of it. I grab the box up off the table, shoving it into an empty spot on the bookshelf and stack books in front of it.

"I can't think about this now." I shove the paper it was wrapped in into the bin and retreat to the garden with my cup in hand.

  
**Bond...**

I place the wooden box back on the counter, the pile of books stacked neatly beside it. The wood is dark and smooth and it almost seems warm to the touch. Wood that was once a living thing, holding the ashes of a man who was once living and who meant something to you. Glancing towards the garden door I pull out a stool and sit down to wait for you to return to me.

More than an hour passes before I hear your light tread on the step and you come to stand in front of me. When our eyes meet, your gaze is defiant but guarded. I hate seeing that look. It brings to mind emotions such as haunted. Lost. Angry. Without you even uttering a word, I realise you believe I'm judging you for decisions you made long ago.

"You should have left it... him... where he was. This is none of your concern."

"You don't need to go through this alone, Q."

You tug at the cuffs of your cardigan. It's an old one, with one cuff already beginning to fray. You find the loose end and worry at it, lengthening the ladder in the knit another inch or so before you say quietly "It's better that I do."

You resemble the student I picture from your vague tales of your university days that, dependent on your mood, are either a time of freedom or of darkness. I know that for all your brilliance, you were fragile and vulnerable. Determined to take on the world, and if it didn't like it, it could just go fuck itself! Spirited creature, with a hard sharp shell and soft centre that could easily be spilled.

It hurts that you believe I would be critical of you. But no... not of you. Of a man who maybe should have known better, but who was perhaps just as broken. You said he was a saviour of sorts, but he set you on a difficult path. You've grown, toughened, become an adult, but there are still ghosts in your past and one of them has come to rest on our counter. And now he has a name.

"Tell me about him. Let's start with his ashes, and where they should go."

 


End file.
